


Life with the Tuskens

by Gabriel4Sam



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding, Breeding Bench, Fix-It, Happy Obi-Wan, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Omega Obi-Wan, Omega Verse, Polyamory, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-11-09 18:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11110401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/pseuds/Gabriel4Sam
Summary: He had seen Omega going with Alpha or Beta, different ones every night, and no jealousy or shame. In the communal tent, where the adults without young children were sleeping, he had learnt to simply roll to the other side, when the couple were only a few meters away.It was still a shock the first time he saw the breeding bench in the special tent in the middle of the camp.





	1. Two years in the Empire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoddessofRoyalty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessofRoyalty/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Obi-Wan/Tuskens](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/296829) by GoddessofRoyalty. 



> This work is inspired by GoddessofRoyalty's worldbuilding, so it's logic that it should be in her honour ^^

Obi-Wan had been with the Tuskens for five months when he slept with one of them for the first time.

He had learnt a lot since coming to this world two years before. About himself, about the Force. About a myriad of things. About the Tuskens themselves and their civilization, so much more complex that the farmers and other settlers pretended. Sometimes, he still wasn’t sure how he had come to live with them. If he was honest, a lot of his beginning of Tatooine wasn’t very clear on his mind: the shock, the breaking of so many bonds…How he had come from being a member of a monk order to….that.

Obi-Wan knew that, luminous beings or not, the body wasn’t something shameful to eschew. Wearing an implant that protected from heat was a practicality, not a rejection. He hadn’t come to Tatooine a virgin, sex with friends had always been a great way to relax.

He even had shared a heat, once, in the war. He had been stuck behind enemy lines when the time had come to change his implant and when he had finally come back to the Temple, it was too late to stop it. He had asked Quinlan, one of his sometimes lovers, and everything had been proper and great. It was too late to stop the heat, but there was medication to reduce its intensity, Quinlan had taken anti-rut pills to keep a clear head, enough water and condoms to keep it clean and using a plug between knotting helped feed the desire.

It was a good memory and nothing like he had seen in the Tuskens camp. He knew children were raised communally, only knew the true identity of their omega parents, because the omega were shared…He had seen Omega going with Alpha or Beta, different ones every night, and no jealousy or shame. In the communal tent, where the adults without young children were sleeping, he had learnt to simply roll to the other side, when the couple were only a few meters away.

It was still a shock the first time he saw the breeding bench in the special tent in the middle of the camp. The minute he had been sure it was consensual, he had flew to his former homestead, and only come back two weeks after. The second time, he had stayed in the children tent. And the third, he had followed the other Omega, and with them brought water to the one that was breeded, touched her side, and caressed her belly when she was still knotted, whispering prayers to the Twin Suns in the Tuskens language, prayers of fertility, for her womb to quicken with seed. In the tents, outside the gaze of the Twin, when the masks were torn, he had accepted kisses from Alpha and Beta, he had slept in the pile with other Omega that didn’t want sex that night.

Still, he hadn’t taken his decision. In a few months, he would need to go to town and choose.

Change his implant for a new one.

Or come back without it and simply wait for the heat that would rose in him, get tied to the breeding bench and shared between Alphas, getting breed by the tribe. A child. Perhaps more than one? Probably more than one. And other nights, outside of heat, going from an Alpha to a Beta to another Alpha, or sometimes sleeping in the Omega pile.

He knew they would keep him into their tribe if he came back with a new implant, like they accepted the fact that he didn’t wear a mask outside. He was a little strange, that was probably his powers, or all that time in space, but he was still a member of the tribe.

He lays awake at night, he meditated in the dawn, he thought about it when going to harvest water… And then, one day, it just happened. One of the most seasoned warriors and himself escaped a krayt dragon in a part of the desert where krayt dragons certainly weren’t supposed to be. It was exhilarating, dangerous and Obi-Wan felt alive in the way only adrenaline pumping in his blood could make him. When they went back to their Banthas, laughing, sweating, they sit down to share water and his companion put his hand on his tight in a silent question. He could say no. He had, again and again, when propositioned by members of the tribe, even by this same warrior.

But this day, he let his legs open, he took that hand and put it on the ties of his pants, he let the Alpha help him stand, let him push him against the flank of the bantha, his lover against his back, his front against the animal.

It was strange. It was like no previous experience of Obi-Wan. They hadn’t showered before, they were sweating, his lover didn’t kiss him, not with the Twins Suns gaze on them, he didn’t even put his mask down, only pushed Obi-Wan’s pant low enough and opened his own pant. Against the side of his face, there was wool, the strong scent of their mount, apparently not perturbed by the two humanoids: Tuskens’ Banthas were placid by nature. His lover whispered in tusken, words of praise, telling him how sweet his scent was, how wet he was, how beautifully he opened on his fingers. And Obi-Wan, proper Jedi Master, dutiful Councillor, begged for more, his hands closed against the wool, begged for the cock and then for the knot, begged like an animal in heat, words of tusken and basic mixed.

That was sex at his most primal: an Alpha, an Omega, not even searching for a proper couch, just the desire pushing them, fucking against the side of their mount. The desire was consuming Obi-Wan, a tidal wave more powerful than every game he had played in bed on Coruscant.

When the cock breached him, he yelled, cursed, and when the knot formed, he was happy for the bantha: his knees wouldn’t have keep him standing on his own two feet. He came the second the Alpha touched his cock, whining against the knot growing in him. It was slightly larger than a human’s would have been, but not enough to tear him, just enough to be a little too much, and Obi-Wan stayed here for the minutes it took for the knot to reduce, between his lover and the Bantha, his pants down, the scent of sex, the musk of the animal, the knot tying him and filling him, pushing more semen in him, helpless and more safe that he had ever felt. His lover hand passed under his tunic, caressed his belly’s skin and a long shiver passed in him.

They cut their trip short, went back to the camp. Obi-Wan felt pleasantly dazed, but blushed every time someone only looked in his direction. The question in his mind had finally quieted down.

That night, under the communal tent, when his lover, his mask down, came to him with a beta friend and a question in their extended hands, he rose up from the omega pile and followed them to a more secluded part of the tent.


	2. Ten years in the Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Biggs remembered what he had heard his father and other farmers said, about a human omega living with the raiders, late in the night when Biggs was supposed to be in bed and they had drunk too much.

Biggs was terrified. At ten years old, his father had told him he was a man, now, as was the rule on the hard Tatooine, but in his soul, right now, he wished for the safety of his mother’s arms.

That was his idea to go with Luke, without telling any adults, and now, Luke was unconscious, had been since he fell from that rock, and they were prisoners! The Tuskens did terrible things to prisoners, everyone knew that.

Of course, Luke and he would have been eaten by that krayt dragon without the Tuskens’ intervention, and if not, Biggs would never have been strong enough to take Luke’s body to safety before the night, but now, they were taking them to their camp! He had yelled, bitten, kicked, but without more results that a few laughs.

One of them had given him water and talked to him, in basic, telling him they were safe. Probably trying to make him lower his guard.

The camp was bigger that he thought. And a man, unmasked, was waiting for them at the entrance of the biggest tent. He was tanned, with red hair beginning to go white, with a preoccupied expression that accentuated the lines on his face. He was also wearing robes, close enough from the Tuskens but not totally identical, and those robes were draping a round belly, unmistakable.

Biggs remembered what he had heard his father and other farmers said, about a human omega living with the raiders, late in the night when Biggs was supposed to be in bed and they had drunk too much.

“You’re the Tuskens’ bitch.” A pained expression and noises of fury from the raiders around them.

“I fear this young man is only repeating settlers’ words, no need to be angry with him. Tolherk, could you fetch me a jar of water, please?”

Under the tent, the man undid the dressing that Biggs had made for his friend’s head with his vest, bathed the wound and applied some salve, before dressing the wound again with clean bandages. Whatever what in this thing was good, because Luke’s colour was already improving but Biggs never stopped looking, to be sure he didn’t try anything funny.

“I won’t hurt him.” There was a sad smile on the Omega’s face.

“No, because you can sold him if he’s healthy.”

“By the F…by the Stars, is it what you’re thinking Tuskens do? Well, it would be a cheap price gained for two foolish little boys without prudence.”

“I’m not little!!” The same sad smile, then the man “call me Ben” gave him water and some sort of flatbreads with strange cheese. He moistened a clean cloth with Bantha milk and pressed it against Luke’s lips, patiently, slowly, until his friend had a whole bowl of milk in him.

A Tusken entered the tent with a big, squirming buddle of clothes and when he was in the shadow, took it apart, revealing two young children with grey eyes and striking red hair.

He said something in Tuskens, Ben answered, sighed, and then took the ties of his tunic, baring his skin.

“Biggs, can you take care of one of them for a moment?” And, stupefied, Biggs received an infant in his arms.

“Don’t fear. She’s fifteen months old, not as weak as a new-born, but she likes to run away and go adventuring, a little like you and young Luke.” The Tusken had departed and the second infant was nursing, with great enthusiasm.

There was, in Ben’s hand, the same gentleness when he caressed the little head against his skin, that when he had touched Luke, and Biggs knew.

He knew that whatever would happen, Luke and he were as safe there, in the middle of the Tuskens’ camp, as safe, perhaps safer, that they would be home.

Later, Biggs pretended to sleep. He was sure nothing bad would happen but that was something he did home too: you learned a lot about what adults thought that way. Of course, it didn’t work because Ben spoke Tusken! The Omega never let them, but various raiders came and went, with messages perhaps, with water and food for Ben. He thought they were sometimes trying to convince him to go with them, but Ben refused. Two even took their masks down and kissed him, before masking their faces again and going. Children came in the tent when the evening progressed and to them, the Omega spook Basic, helped them lie down with Biggs and Luke, speaking softly, kissing their heads. They were his children. The Tuskens’ bi…the omega had them sleeping with his own children.

Satisfied, sure now that he could let sleep claim him, the last thing he saw was Ben, nursing another baby, watching all them with careful eyes.


	3. Seven years in the Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the heat was still rising. He let two Betas have him in one of the tent at the warmest hour, but if it was pleasant, it wasn’t enough.

His heat was coming.

Now that he had been without suppressants for five years, Obi-Wan recognized the signs more easily, and with less trepidation that the first time. He was not surprised: his last litter, adorable triplets with his hair, like all his kids, were now almost thirteen months year old and it was coherent. He had had his suspicions the last days but was sure during his morning meditation. He had chosen an exposed rock spur, like a perfect observation platform for the camp, and he took twice the time he normally used for meditation: it would probably be a few days before he could again reach that peace. He offered everything to the Force, his joy, his sadness, the memory of the Jedi, the guilt of his new life, alive and free and loved when everyone he had once loved was dead…When he went back to the camp, everybody was up and busy and he saw the gazes of a few Alpha on him, provoking a long, delicious shiver. They knew, too.

A’Zaan, an Alpha, and one of his best friends in the tribe, was busy feeding a mash of fruits, cereals and Bantha milk to the children old enough for solid food and Obi-Wan distributed kisses generously: to his children and others. The way the young were raised communally were something the Tuskens was in common with Jedi, one of the things that had needed no acclimation. He had personally birthed seven children since he had accepted to be a part of the tribe, living like one of their Omega, but he felt in his heart the same love for children that he had helped other Omega birth. They were the future, all of them, the Force Sensitive that came from his womb, and the others.

“You smell terribly sweet this morning.” Smiled A’Zaan. This sort of events was a joy for the tribe, not the embarrassing and awkward memory of their animalistic nature that it was on Coruscant and Obi-Wan laughed, then opened his robe to nurse the triplets, one after the other. The Force had been generous: he had never lacked milk and when, last winter, the tribe had lost another Omega to a hunting trip, he had been one of the wet nurses for her four children. When the triplets had drunk all they wanted, and A’Zaan was busy with their diapers, he still had milk and he nursed his two years old twin, and then a little girl from another Omega, because she was still hungry. He had adopted his new people’s way: here, children nursed until four years old, sometimes five, even if they also ate solid food. With the harsh life of the desert, that gave their body a better fighting chance.

Later, when the children had been collected by the elders for class, A’Zaan’s mouth tracked on his skin the last traces of milk, making him whine.

“You’re already so sensitive. I can’t wait to see you tied to the bench, to see you mounted by the tribe.” And he demonstrated in making Obi-Wan come like that, without touching his cock, just with his mouth on his chest, then the Jedi rolled over him, opening the thick-layers of the Tusken garb with long practice, and swallowed his cock. In a few hours, he would have totally zero interest in giving blowjobs, but for now he took pleasure in it. The Negotiator, using his mouth and his silver tongue to pleasure a Tusken raider, and loving every second of it. The people of his past probably would have been horrified. The thing that Anakin had become would probably think that Obi-Wan was put in his place. How wrong they were. How he loved the fingers twisting in his hair, the out of breath voice praising his mouth. His eyes fluttered and he let his lover have all the control on the speed, his throat opening easily after years of frequent moments on his knees. In his guts, heat was rising, and he could feel his ass clench, the slick beginning to run over his tights…

The day was long. He didn’t go with a hunting party, that would have been stupid so close to heat, but he helped with the children, took an hour for the lessons of Basic he gave to some adults, milked the Banthas, laughing with the other Omegas that worked with him…

And the heat was still rising. He let two Betas have him in one of the tent at the warmest hour, but if it was pleasant, it wasn’t enough. He wanted the weight of a knot, he wanted the power of Alphas tying, breeding him, he wanted to be so overcome by lust that he didn’t know which one was emptying himself in his womb and to not care, because he was for the whole tribe; he wanted his universe reduced to the breeding bench, the safety he felt when the leather kept him in place, offered to the tribe…

And the heat was still rising. He nursed his children again, kissed them, thanking the Omega that would nurse them the time of his heat.  

When the second sun was low in the sky, he went to the biggest tent. The leader was already unmasked, hidden from the Twins’ gaze, and he kissed him slowly. Obi-Wan moaned under the kiss. Soon, soon. The chief took every piece of clothes of his body, and guided him to the breeding bench, closing the leather ties on him, and Obi-Wan let go of the breath stuck in his belly and surrendered to his heat.


	4. Three years in the Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had become one of the Omega of the tribe and he now led the same life, sharing dangers and joy, harvesting the fruits of the rare plants in the desert, milking Bantha, raising children and helping with all the chores. When the nights came, he had followed Alpha and Beta to more secluded corners, and opened his legs and his mouth and his arms, or sometimes refused and slept in the Omega pile.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure it would be easy for him to conceive: he had been on suppressants almost all his life, and it was common that Omega needed a few heats for their hormones to be balanced enough to conceive, and perhaps he would need time to build up even those unfertile heats.

It didn’t happen that way: seven months after he came to live with the Tuskens, two months after having his implant taken out, the fever of the heat took him fully for the first time. It was so different from that one he had shared with Quinlan years ago, with the help of medication for the two of them. Here, it had come with the full strength of an Omega biology. He thought he would fear it, when the moment would come, knowing all Alphas of the tribe would mount him until sated, fearing he would feel imprisoned on the breeding bench, or used.

Instead, he had lost himself to lust, he had felt cherished, possessed. Instead, when he was knotted and more aware, when the other Omega had caressed his belly, his body kept in place by the leather ties, praising him; praying for pups, pride had risen in him. Oh yes, he had been used, used until semen had dripped of him, until he was so wet and open and he had adored every second of it, had begged between knots and he had come so many times it was a wonder he had not broken something.

After the heat, he remembered waking up, groggy, his body heavy under a pile of furs, he remembered blushing, and A’Zaan, that had brought him milk and bread, and who didn’t understand why he was feeling awkward. He had kissed his hair, his cheek, and put naturally his hand on Obi-Wan’s belly, provoking a shiver.

“Are you worried your womb didn’t take seed? Those things happen but you will just have another heat in a few months, if it’s like that. And I don’t think it is, I think you’re stuffed full of pups. You were very sweet, slick and wet, and you took many, many knots before the heat subsided, that’s a good sign. A good breeding, you can be proud, you gave the tribe much pleasure.”

Obi-Wan really didn’t know where to start his explanations, so he had accepted the drink, another kiss, on the lips that one, and had let sleep take him again. Four days after, he had felt within himself two other Force presence and nearly wept at the love that was already within his heart. He had slept in the Omega pile for ten days, then he had accepted a Beta’s hand one night, risen from the pile and ridden him, clinging to his shoulders as he was filled. When the Chief, his hand in the hand of the Omega he would have for the night, had passed them, he had stopped for a kiss, and Obi-Wan, impaled on another cock, had responded to the kiss, before the Chief had resumed his walk for another corner. It had felt like a blessing.

He had become one of the Omega of the tribe and he now led the same life, sharing dangers and joy, harvesting the fruits of the rare plants in the desert, milking Bantha, raising children and helping with all the chores. When the nights came, he had followed Alpha and Beta to more secluded corners, and opened his legs and his mouth and his arms, or sometimes refused and slept in the Omega pile.

And he was happy. In this life all Coruscant would have judged a life with savages. He adored long evenings listening to Tuskens traditional fairytales, he loved long naps when the sun was high, his head pillowed of one of the other arm, he loved meditating in the first dawn of the first sun…. He loved when Laxa, a female Omega the same age, and him went hunting together with a few Alphas or Beta. He refused to kill animals but helped prepare the meat and the nights in temporary camps were always fun. Who would have told him that the Tuskens had fun?

If General Kenobi could see him, milking Banthas, and letting an Alpha sometime twice his age, sometimes twice younger, open his tunic and push his pants down between two chores, just because the two of them feel like it. All Alpha and Beta of the tribe had had him outside of heat, and he felt no shame in that. Was he not an Omega of the tribe?

Everyone had respected his no, every time he had felt like it, and he refused to feel shame when he said yes, when he was onto his back in a nest of furs, lifting his knees near his head, spreading himself as wide as he could, mewling in pleasure when an Alpha seated himself to the hilt in him, where the rest of the adults could see if they wanted, some of them sleeping in pile, some of them engaged in similar activities. What would he feel ashamed? What was more natural? Sometimes one of the guards, finishing his rotation and coming to the adult’s tent, would ask to join, in touching his shoulder, and he would ease himself on all fours, to eat her out, the knot still hard and pulsing in him. At the beginning, he had thought Tusken’s knots almost too much, but now it seemed natural, to be filled so good, stretched in a so satisfying way that he could do nothing more than go lax.

And now, nine months after, here he was, a Jedi, totally naked, ready to birth two pups and not even knowing who the father was. Or the fathers. It didn’t matter. They were the children of the tribe. The other Omega had given him some sort of decoction, a fermented juice that was supposed to help with pain, and he was pushing the rest of it in the Force. He had thought he would panic, remembering Padme and her fate, but he was simply too busy :it was more exhausting that he thought, and all the Omega were there, helping, encouraging him. He knew sometimes Tuskens died giving birth too but he wasn’t fearful. He could feel twin stars in the Force, twin stars ready to meet him, and he struggled to birth them. Twins for the tribe. On his skin, he could feel his friends’ hands, like they were trying to give him strength.

Later, when he had passed the after birth and cleaned up, all the tribe came to see the new children, when he was giving them the first meal of their life, still as naked as his twins, marvelling at the wonder of biology, his body producing everything his pups needed. An Omega nursing his children, like Omega had done since the beginning of life itself. They were his. He had received seed in his body, Alpha had taken their pleasure in him, and here they were. Pups. That he would raise, with all the Tuskens. Pups that would have siblings, probably. Everything forbidden in his old life.

And Obi-Wan, Jedi Master, felt proud in presenting his first-borns to his tribe.


	5. Six years into the Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time would tell, and the Force would provide. Now, he could live in the moment, the moment where Laxa and he could compete playfully, in the furs of their makeshift bed for the night, to see which one could suck an Alpha the longer without making them come.

They had left between the dawn of the first sun and the dawn of the second, when the day was still young and travelled a long distance to find a good hunting ground. Two Omega and two Alphas, for a trip that was, honestly, more pleasure that pressing need for meat. But it was always good to have a little more: salted, prepared, they would trade it with other tribes against other products. Obi-Wan hoped for that juice of yellow berries that the tribes more in the North produced.

Laxa, one of his fellow Omega, wasn’t pregnant, her last heat hadn’t taken, and he was only six week long in his third pregnancy, still good to travel without difficulties, so when A’Zaan and his brother No’Mté, an Alpha too, three years younger than A’Zaan, had proposed the trip, they had said yes.

Their children would be nursed for a few days by the other Omega and it was good, sometimes, in Laxa’s words, to have time to relax without the little ones, as loved as they were. At the warmest hour, they had found a cave for a temporary camp, prepared the place for the night, and A’Zaan had drunk from Obi-Wan, to relieve the pleasure of the milk, the act more intimate that sexual. Then the Jedi had meditated, appreciating the long hours offered to do it. In the camp, there was always a task or another, and he only meditated in the morning. But here, he soared in the Force in their little camp for hours when the three other hunted and only opened his eyes when he perceived them coming back, rejuvenated in the most delicious way.

The hunt had been good and he helped skin their preys, scaly rodents long as his arm, and prepare the meat. A good part went into the jars of salt, and they roasted the rest for their dinner. Obi-Wan felt at peace, here, joking with them, listening to the two Alpha brothers playfully boast about their hunting prowess, before Laxa made them confess she had been more successful that the two of them together! Within him, he felt the sparks of life of his third litter, somewhere in the Force, he felt his bonds with his children, sleeping peacefully in the big camp miles from there…He had made peace with the past, accepted that pain, and here, he was building something other, the celibate Jedi not forgotten, but a part of a life he wasn’t leading anymore, accepted and remembered but not stuck as something impossible to find again.

He was Obi-Wan, Omega of the tribe. He had been mounted by Alphas and Betas, inside and outside of heat. He had given them twins, two girls, and then had go back to the breeding bench and been mounted until another set of twin, two boys this time, had been put in his belly and now, he was pregnant with triplet.

And he would do it again, the next time heat would rose in him. He would be breed, tied and breed. He didn’t want another life anymore that this succession of happy moments, that the nights in the communal tent when he let an Alpha or a Beta fuck him without shame, that the days tending to the herds, raising the children, he didn’t want anything other than this life, breed and loved, again and again…

He didn’t want another life that the love, the affection, the way they let him have time when he needed and the way they also didn’t let him wallow in his misery when he got stuck in his head. He has spent long afternoons in the tent, between one of the warrior legs, simply keeping his cock warm in his mouth, until his brain had gone fuzzy and the self-recrimination had gone silent. It was a trap of his mind that tripped him less those days but he still sometimes found someone to share those moments with him, loving the simplicity of being nothing more than a warm mouth.

He could feel in the Force that something had changed in the future. Whatever would happen, his children, Force-Sensitive, half-human and half tuskens, would make the world a better place.

He had chosen for him, had taken a part of happiness, but he Knew good things would come for the world of his selfish decision.

And if he didn’t know what, time would tell, and the Force would provide. Now, he could live in the moment, the moment where Laxa and he could compete playfully, in the furs of their makeshift bed for the night, to see which one could suck an Alpha the longer without making them come. In other circumstances, he loved when his lover of the night keep his head in place and used his mouth, but that wasn’t the idea today. A’Zaan had been brought on the brink of orgasm several times already by Obi-Wan’s mouth, but he had never let him fall in it, and the Alpha, swearing, had taken to fist the furs to stop himself from forcing his mouth lower, promising Obi-Wan horrible retributions the next time their position would be inversed! His weight was pleasant on his tongue, his jaw was becoming tired, but not enough to stop: in all these years, Obi-Wan had gained skills with his throat, his tongue, his lips, that would have make the more proficient courtesan blush. He heard No’Mté swear and he smiled. Laxa had probably stopped again.

“You’re terrible, terrible persons, the two of you.” Complained A’Zaan overdramatically, his voice trembling and a whine escaping him when Obi-Wan took him totally in his throat. Obi-Wan took pride in his skills. In another life, that would have embarrassed him but not anymore. What could be bad in pleasing a lover, even a whole tribe of them? A’Zaan fucked into Obi-Wan’s mouth, thrusting shallowly and the redhead moaned, his eyes closing under the wave of lust.

“Love your throat. So tight. Love fucking it. That’s it, beloved, sun-touched, swallow me, like that…”

He kept him like that another long moment, alternating the moments where he sucked his lover or let him fuck his mouth and moments where he simply kept the hard cock warm in his mouth, loving the sweet submission of the position. When the swearing had gained an almost desperate turn, he let totally go of the cock, gaining another swearing tirade so original that he laughed, before asking, his voice hoarse like it never had been: “My mouth is tired…Perhaps you should finish elsewhere?”

“You little minx…” swore A’Zaan, manhandling him onto his belly, shifting him until Obi-Wan knelt on the furs with his legs tucked under his chest and mounted him. Obi-Wan was so wet that he took him, just like that, pushing in him in a brutal movement that made the Omega yell in overwhelmed pleasure. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Laxa on her back, legs behind her ears, the other Alpha rutting in her body with force, hard and fast. He clenched down in the hard cock in him. He had loved to play like that but the weight of an Alpha using him hard and filling him…

“More, more…” and his voice was a plea. He went lax, letting A’Zaan possess him totally, offering himself, totally at his lover’s mercy. The Alpha slammed into him twice more and then came, knotting him and pumping him full of semen and the sensation was enough to push the Jedi into orgasm too.

Later in the night, he would eat out Laxa, the two Omega shamefully using the fascination of Alpha for Omega/Omega interaction, before getting knotted by No’Mté, on his back on the furs, his hand in Laxa’s hand when she was fucked by A’Zaan. He would find sleep like that, in a nest of furs of limbs, a knot still hard in him, warm and safe and loved.


	6. One year in the New Republic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the seven children of Obi-Wan’s blood that had stayed with the tribe, too young to follow their bearer when he had left for space six years ago with the young Skywalker and his seven older children.  
> At the time, A’Zaan and the tribe had sworn the abandoned young wouldn’t felt abandoned and they had cared for them, loved them, at the best they could, even if sometimes it was difficult.  
> Those were children who Saw things not happened yet, who Dreamed of strange places and levitated the tents when they had a nightmare. Who came napping against his side and asked if their bearer had loved them. A’Zaan had cared a lot for Obi-Wan, he had been one of his best friends, but when he heard those little voices, he wanted to slap him.

A’Zaan had the beginning of a headache the morning it happened. It wasn’t exactly surprising: the old E’Calt had decided two years ago that he was too old to lead the tribe and he had been elected at his place. It was a lot of prestige…but also a lot of worries and work.

So, he had a headache and he had chosen to stay in the camp, instead of going to trade with the neighbourhood tribe, as it had been planned. That didn’t mean he was napping: he was teaching a small group of children how to clip the horns of the new born banthas, before they grew too much and hurt the teats of their mother.

“Cam’thatl, for the third time, could you stop daydreaming and listen?”  The little girl didn’t seem to hear him. At seven years old, she was most of the time a very reasonable child, with her moments of mischief, but always listening to lessons.

“Little moon, “he insisted, patient, trying to capture her attention. The survival of Tuskens was tied to the herd and that was important skills to know how to care for them. When he touched her shoulder, she turned to him again and asked for a new demonstration, but ten minutes later, she was already far away, her gaze turned to the South. And her litter-brother B’Ach was the same, distant, listening something A’Zaan couldn’t.

“I see. Nobody is ready to listen today…” He took them to the children tent again, gave them milk and desert plums. Most of the children devoured the impromptu meal with pleasure but B’Ach and Cam’thatl let half their part un-eaten and Me’ot, their elder sister, was beginning to show the same sign. Something was happening, he couldn’t refute it anymore. He roamed the camp and what he had suspected was true: other children were showing the same symptoms. And not all of them, no, as he had suspected it was the seven children of Obi-Wan’s blood that had stayed with the tribe, too young to follow their bearer when he had left for space six years ago with the young Skywalker and his seven older children. At the time, A’Zaan and the tribe had sworn the abandoned young wouldn’t felt abandoned and they had cared for them, loved them, at the best they could, even if sometimes it was difficult. Those were children who Saw things not happened yet, who Dreamed of strange places and levitated the tents when they had a nightmare. Who came napping against his side and asked if their bearer had loved them. A’Zaan had cared a lot for Obi-Wan, he had been one of his best friends, but when he heard those little voices, he wanted to slap him.

He gathered the seven children in the communal tent; Cam’thatl and her twin B’Ach, and Me’ot and her triplet L’illam and S’xi and their older brothers Br’on and R’hos. They weren’t feverish, they heared him when he called their names, but they always started again listening to something he couldn’t a few seconds after and fear was in his heart. He was imagining Obi-Wan, his body broken on a strange world, finally gunned down by a danger A’Zaan couldn’t even imagine.

“R’hos… R’hos, can you tell me what you’re felling?” He finally found the courage to ask.

“The noises of the engine, Chief.”

“Engine?”

“Yes. The ship is almost there, can’t you fell it?”

“You know you fell things I don’t, we talked about that. Can you tell me more?”

“It’s a big ship and something is always making the wrong noises in it. It’s very fast and the crew is the man with a big heart and a strange person with a body full of hairs. And there is a lot of people like us on it.”

“Do you mean those who can use the…the Force? Like your brothers and sisters.”

“Yes.”

And then the noise….A noise like A’Zaan had never heard. He took his rifle and ran outside, yelling at them to go in the elders’ tent. The old chief would know how to take the young to the mountain by the secret path, to take them somewhere safe…

It was bigger that he would have thought. Metallic and enormous and falling from the sky, stopping just before impact and, a little awkwardly, perching on the rock overhanging just before the camp.

With the warriors, A’Zaan advanced. It was the first time he saw a ship from this close, but he had not become chief in letting his fear command him.

A door opened and his grip got stronger on his riffle.

“Emmmm. Hello?”

The silhouette was wearing strange robe, and her face was naked for the suns, but there was no mistaking it: that young woman was part Tusken, and she hadn’t changed so much that he didn’t recognize her. Fa’En, one of Obi-Wan’s older twin, alive and well, her back proud and her green eyes shining. He felt his shoulders loosen, a little, and he called her by her name. His voice appeased her, and her hand let go of the silver handle of her belt.

“A’Zaan.” He opened his arm for her. She had grown and was now taller than him. A child of the tribe, returned safely to them. She hadn’t presented before leaving but he caught her odour, a strong Alpha now, and he felt full of pride because that child of the tribe had come back. After their hug, she went to great the other warriors and his eyes fell on the ramp of the ship. There was the young Skywalker, wearing black, and Fa’En twin, and the twin boys, now bulkier and taller, and the triplets, all their children alive and here….and Obi-Wan.

The Omega’s hair were now totally white and he came to him limping, one of his sleeve empty.

“Since you’re the first to great us, I suppose congratulations on becoming chief as in order?”

A’Zaan didn’t answer him, trying to hang on his anger. Obi-Wan had abandoned the tribe and some of his children for far away wars. You didn’t abandon your young, even beasts didn’t do that! He didn’t get to come back and smile like that, as he had never left.

Little feet were running to them. Obi-Wan’s seven abandoned children, and of course they hadn’t obeyed A’Zaan. Obi-Wan knelt and, without hesitation, they went to him, even the young ones, which had been too young at the time of his departure to remember his face.

A’Zaan left for the camp, without a word. He didn’t want to hear about his travels, their travels, their wars, their stars. He didn’t want to know when they would leave again. He didn’t want to know if Obi-Wan would take the younger this time.

He spent almost all afternoon carving a new bow, alone in one of the smaller tent. His brother came to him with food and water, calling him an idiot; but he didn’t leave the shade of the tent.

“Chief?” It was Fa’En.

“You know you can call me A’Zaan.” He smiled, because he wouldn’t take her anger to a child of the tribe.

She sit next to him.

“The elders have helped us set up in the tent’s children. I and my brothers and sisters and Luke will take care of the little ones for the night.”

“I don’t think your younger siblings would want to be separated from your bearer so fast.”

“They will have him again tomorrow morning. It’s natural that the adults have him in the night, after all, is he not an Omega of the tribe?” And she left him, with more questions unanswered.

He got up and went to the biggest tent. The adults were still eating and, next to the fire, Obi-Wan one of them. His lips were redder and just at this instant, one of the beta leaned down and kissed him.

A’Zaan entered the tent and went to kneel down at their side. In the corner of the tent, he could see the Omega, preparing their pile for the night. He put his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and the one surviving hand of the Omega went to it, their fingers tangling.

“Please, don’t take our children.” That wasn’t what he wanted to say first and he bit his lips.

“Perhaps some of them will go explore the world.” Obi-Wan said, and you could see he chose his words carefully. “But I hope they will always come back to see their old bearer.”

A second of silence.

“For Force’s sake! Ask it! The question is so powerful is your mind I could fell it across the camp!”

“Are you staying?”

“Yes. Yes, if the tribe would have an old unfertile Omega like me.”

“You’re an Omega of the tribe. You gave us much children, much pleasure. And your place is with us.” A’Zaan whispered and he leaned down, kissed him. Cam’oh, a beta a little younger than him, was already attacking Obi-Wan’s robe. There was something electric in the air. Of course, Obi-Wan couldn’t be mounted by all the tribe, not in one night, not outside a heat, but everywhere in the tent, couples of Omega and Alpha, Omega and Beta, or triad, were forming for the night, desire more high than ever, encouraged by the return of the prodigal Omega, and a lot of them were watching at the same time, feeding their desire in the view of their missing member, alive and well under the Chief.

Obi-Wan’s body was bearing more scars, the missing limb, a nasty trace on his hip, and traces of fights that he would be asked about later, again and again. But for now, he was propped on pillows and furs, hands tracing his body, his scars, his mouth devoured by hungry kisses, again and again, other hands pushing him in place, manhandled on his knees, presenting, and a cock breached him, for the first time in seven years, making him yell in overwhelmed pleasure. It was almost too much and against his shield, he felt the pleasure and desire of all the tribe.

“You’re ours.” Whispered A’Zaan against his ear, his knot already growing, and Obi-Wan sobbed a yes, before opening his mouth, grateful for the cock of No’Mté pushing against his lips. A Beta and two Alpha were seating nearby, fisting their cocks lazily, and waiting for a turn with him. He surrendered to the tribe, surrounded by desire and love, beloved Omega, and he closed his eyes, ready for the rest of his life.


End file.
